


Dirty laundry: the way to a man's heart.

by tinypeckers



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-19 00:40:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1448896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinypeckers/pseuds/tinypeckers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simmons is sick and tired of having to clean Grif's room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty laundry: the way to a man's heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Part of Ambitious April - send me prompts at tinypeckers.tumblr.com/prompts

"Grif! Are you serious? I only cleaned this room an hour ago!" Simmons cried, surveying the mess in front of him in disgust. Grif was sprawled across his bunk, armour abandoned at the foot of his bed and fortunately fully clothed save for the one sock Simmons was sure was buried somewhere in the mess. "I am not cleaning up again." Simmons threatened, voice rising as he placed his hands onto his hips. Grif grunted and shrugged from where he lay, resting on his elbow to glance up at Simmons.  
"Then don't." He said nonchalantly before falling back onto the bed with a satisfied sigh. Simmons swallowed, eyes darting nervously amongst the trash that littered the floor. He walked into the room slightly, hovering by the door. Simmons folded his arms. Then he unfolded them. He paced back and forth in the centre of the room. Simmons shivered as his armoured toes kicked clothes and trash around.

  
Grif glanced noncommitally up at the other man, smirking as he observed Simmons' displeaure. He gestured lazily with a flop of his hand the the floor around him.  
"You can clean if you'd like, Simmons. I'm not stopping you." He said smugly. Although he could not see Simmons' glare beneath his armour, Grif could sure feel it. He laughed out loud.  
"This isn't funny, Grif! If I clean it, you'll only mess it up again!" Simmons whined, even as he bent down to pick up Grif's discarded clothes from the floor.  
"Well, duh. That's the point." Grif murmured. Simmons stood from where he was picking up the dirty washing, pointedly staring at the man in lazing in front of him.  
"What point? You're just a dirty slob!" Simmons accused the other man, dropping what he'd been holding in favour of pointing angrily at Grif.

  
Dexter Grif pouted, genuinely looking upset and hurt. He crossed his arms like a petulant child, rolling over to turn his back to Simmons.  
"Rude. I only do this to spend time with you." Grif muttered from his bed. Under his helmet, Simmons raised an eyebrow.  
"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked, simply assuming this was a ploy that Grif was using to get him to clean up the damned mess. But Grif simply shrugged, biting his lip before he decided to spill his (slightly large) gut.  
"Well you're always busy doing whatever bullshit Sarge wants which is ridiculous because he doesn't know what the hell he's doing. The only time you hang with me is when you come to yell about the room. So I started messing it up for the hell of it." Grif admitted with a shrug. Simmons' posture softened.  
"Really?" Simmons asked hopefully. Grif blushed, just a little, as he nodded and chewed his lip.  
"Well, you could have just asked! This is not an appropriate way to hang out!" Simmons yelled though his voice squeaked a little and he wasn't as intimidating as he thought. Still, Grif jumped.

  
"What? But I thought you liked cleaning!" Grif cried, sitting up from where he'd nestled into his bed. Simmons noticed with both admiration and disgust that the mattress held his shape when his body had left it.  
"No, I don't like cleaning. I just like things clean!" Simmons groaned, exasperated by his friend's ignorance. Grif's mouth formed a perfect 'o' as things began to click inside his brain. Grif stood, bending down as much as he could to scoop up a bundle of clothing, and grinned at Simmons.  
"Well, how about we clean up this mess and then go make out or something?" Grif suggested.  
"Yeah, okay." Simmons said dismissively as he started to clean alongside Grif, his friend's words taking a moment to sink in. In fact, Simmons didn't register what Grif had said for a full half an hour as they worked together to get the room clean. It was only when they'd finished, Grif folding his arms and grinning at his buddy that Simmons realised what he'd said.  
"So, should we make out now or do you want to get lunch first?" Grif said with a lazy smirk.  
"Lunch sounds good," Simmons said. Grif waited one second, two, before Simmons cried, "Wait, what?"  
"I said let's get lunch first." Grif said, chuckling to himself. He started to leave, Simmons hot on his heels.  
"Grif!" Simmons whined but found that he'd recieve no answer.


End file.
